Like the vast majority of contemporary Brits, I grew up in a city. I have lived almost my entire life with the constant rumble that accompanies the urban landscape. I have learnt to sleep through passing trains, lorries, buses and assorted other forms of diesel propelled transport. I currently live under the fight path of one of the world’s busiest airports, yet I am barely conscious of the planes passing overhead. In fact I find it difficult to sleep if my dreams are not accompanied by the low hum of traffic.
This was illustrated to me most graphically the night I first experienced natural quiet. I was staying on a Navajo homestead in a remote part of Northern Arizona. We had travelled for more than an hour over rough dirt and gravel roads to visit our hosts. We had eaten a hearty dinner, experienced good humoured companionship and marvelled at the desert night sky. By bedtime I was bone weary and I felt like I could have slept for a week. The household settled down for the night and as I crawled into my sleeping bag peace descended. All was quiet, but I could not sleep. I was gripped by a sudden uneasiness, a restless nagging feeling that would not allow me to settle. I was struck by the absolute conviction that something was amiss. As tendrils of fear began to wrap themselves around my weary brain, I chewed on the problem. What was it that had unsettled me so?
I did what all good Christians do at such times, I prayed. I prayed for protection against whatever spiritual dread lurked in the dark. I prayed that God would shield me from all things, human and demonic, that would seek to do me harm. I asked that I would know the peace of God which passes all understanding. The fear left, but it was not replaced by sleep. Sometime later I finally identified the problem. No noise – all was utterly still outside. No planes, no people, not even a breeze to rustle the leaves of the cottonwood tree outside my window – perfect, impenetrable silence. I had grown so used to the unending buzz of urban background noise, that my brain could not register this silent stillness as normal. Somewhere in my subconscious a small but persistent alarm was sounding… ‘Something’s missing… something’s not right…’ In the end the only way I could sleep was to put in my earphones and listen to the white noise of radio static. That night, for the first time, I became acutely aware of my discomfort with silence.
We live in a noisy, chaotic, unstable and uncertain world. You only have to see the latest news from around the globe to confirm this. But this state of affairs in nothing new. The Psalms speaks of earthquakes and great storms causing the mountains to tremble and the seas to foam in great surges of water. Beyond these natural disasters, there are the man made consequences of the Nations being in uproar; war, famine and hundreds of thousands of displaced people. One disaster following hard on the heels of another – and all around death and disruption. Suddenly God’s voice speaks into the chaos, fear and grief… “Be Still and know that I am God! I will be honoured by every nation. I will be honoured throughout the world.
What is our response when our world spirals out of control, when the kingdom we have built crumbles around us? My guess is that our overriding instinct is not to be still. Seeking a place of solitude and silence is unlikely to be first priority on our agenda. Yet this is what God asks of us. We must be still in order to truly know our God. We have to step back from the chaos to see the one who is truly our refuge and strength, our always present help in trouble. Only when we seek this silent still place, will the foaming surging waters that would sweep us away be transformed into the river that brings joy to our city. Only in this truly sacred inner space will our internal wars cease. Then we will find the peace that does not desert us in the worst external circumstances. It is in this counter-cultural, counter-intuitive response to crisis we truly know, at the very core of our being, that “The Lord of Heaven’s Armies is here among us; the God of Israel is our fortress.”
Questions for Reflection:
What do you find challenging about silence and stillness?
What are the current things you see that are throwing your world into chaos and how do you respond to them?
When were you last aware that “The Lord of Heaven’s Armies” was with you and “the God of Israel” was your fortress?
